Let Me Just Close My Eyes and Pretend
by lovebugxstories
Summary: Just a small oneshot... Santana's inner struggle with her sexuality and her first time with Brittany


It had been four months since Santana had lost her virginity.

She had been on this unspectacular date with that decently looking guy of the football team and he started stroking her thigh as they were sitting in his car after their dinner at Breadstix.

He looked at her as his hand traveled higher up her leg and underneath her skirt and Santana felt nervous, even though she would never have admitted it. The skin of his hand felt rough on hers as it went higher and higher until it reached the fabric of her panties, carefully stroking the part between her legs.

"You like that?" he asked her and Santana felt that lump in her throat.

"Sure, whatever..." she said, shrugging, as his fingers pushed against her a little more firmly.

"Cool" the guy replied grinning, leaning in to place some sloppy wet kisses on her chin and neck.

People assumed she had lost her virginity to some guy at summer camp several months ago because that's what she had been telling everyone. She had enjoyed the fact that people thought she was experienced, had enjoyed the many questions all those curious girls had asked her, had liked the fact that it made her feel superior. But there had been no guy at summer camp. The truth was that Santana felt terrified.

The young Latina knew she was old enough to finally go through with it, but everytime she tried getting it on, something inside her told her to stop. Something felt wrong, odd, simply not right.

She had tried doing it with some senior once but she had stopped him before it could get too serious, had told him she'd rip off his balls if he ever told anyone that she said no.

This time she didn't want to allow herself to back out again, this time she would just do it and it would be okay.

Even Brittany, her best friend in the whole world, had been falling for her lies.

"It's not that bad, it's actually pretty easy" she had told her and Brittany had been fascinated by her friend's 'experience'.

One day Brittany had come over to her place, all excited, telling Santana that she was right, that sex really wasn't that big of a deal.

"I'm glad we had this talk about sex, San" she had told her happily. "I wasn't sure I wanted to try it, but since you said it was so easy I thought I'd give it a shot and it was fun! Though I don't understand why everyone says it's the best thing in the world..."

Brittany's words had felt like a knife in Santana's chest. She felt stupid, embarrassed, intimidated. Why was she fooling herself?

When the guy pushed her against the passenger seat, Santana tried to close her eyes and to calm down her breathing. When he pushed his long finger inside her she tried her best to enjoy it, tried to focus on anything that might feel good, tried to focus only on her body and not on the person she was experiencing this moment with. His hands were groping her breasts and it felt as if she was watching herself from outside her body.

'This is sexy' she told herself. 'You're having sex. It's like the movies. He's hot, you're hot, you're in a fancy car. It's wrong, it's exciting, he's touching you, it's how it's supposed to be'

Her mind was working fast, all the things that she knew were supposed to turn a woman on were flashing in front of her eyes, but she felt numb. His finger moving in and out already hurt a bit and when he was finally positioned between her legs and her gaze lingered at his erection, she made herself look away.

She bit her lower lip hard when he entered her, hoping it wouldn't take long for him to finish. It wasn't easy for him to move inside her and Santana wasn't sure why, she figured it was their uncomfortable position in the car, maybe also the fact that the guy didn't seem to be too experienced himself.

Santana grabbed the sides of the seat harder when his movements grew faster, his panting becoming louder. She figured he'd be done soon, eagerly awaiting the moment he'd just turn limp above her.

When he finally did, he smiled at her, apologizing for having drooled on her shirt. Santana said nothing, just pushed him off, asked him to drive her home.

Since that night she had slept with three different guys, with some of them multiple times. It didn't hurt as much anymore and that one time, with Puck, Santana thought she almost came. His face had been between her legs and she had tried – again - to only focus on the feeling of his tongue against her clit. She had pressed her eyes shut, had tried to have a completely blank mind, had tensed all the muscles in her belly, had tried to curl up her toes, had tried to hold her breath.

But then again Puck didn't stop moaning as he licked her, didn't stop talking, didn't stop telling her how good she tasted.

She had yelled at him to shut up and when he finally did, Santana was sure she almost came. She was sure she was close and if he kept penetrating her it would finally happen, but after minutes and minutes of his strokes against her clit, she simply gave up. She made herself moan loudly, giving Puck the small kick for his ego that he needed and then softly pushed him away to get dressed again.

She wondered if she expected too much, if something was wrong with her body, if she needed to figure out what really turned her on.

It was then that she tried touching herself for the first time.

Masturbating was definitely better than sex, she had to admit. She was quite wet when her fingers started exploring herself, and her own fingers inside of her felt far more comfortable than what she had experienced before with those boys.

She felt her body become warmer, felt her breath shorten as she touched herself and she knew she was turned on - but something was missing. She tried to think of Puck, tried to imagine him inside her, tried to picture his face, his kisses on her skin but nothing changed. Her clit started feeling numb the longer she rubbed it and she was about to give up when she suddenly tried to picture what Brittany might do differently during sex. Her friend had told her that the more she practiced, the better it got . That some boys didn't really know how to touch her, but that once she showed them a few tricks it would get better and better.

For a minute she felt embarassed, picturing her best friend in bed with some guy, but the harder she thought about it, the better it started to feel as she was touching herself.

She didn't even know what boy she had in mind, it was like some weird grey phantom, the only thing she could see clearly was her blonde friend as she was softly moaning.

Images of Brittany's pouty lips started spooking through her thoughts, images of her well-shaped body moving on top of some faceless person, her head thrown back, her eyes closed. In her fantasy, the blonde was so in charge of the situation, knew exactly what she wanted, incorporating everything Santana thought should be desirable about sex.

She felt herself grow wetter, felt how much easier it suddenly was to slide her finger along her slit and she tried to keep those thoughts, tried her best to cling on them.

Santana didn't know how it happened or why her mind was going to those places but the grey shadow of the other person slowly disappeared as she imagined it was in fact her own neck that Brittany was kissing. It was beyond her own control how all of a sudden her thoughts turned upside down and it felt as if it was her friend who was massaging her breasts, nibbling her earlobe, pushing her finger slowly inside of her.

The realization hit her hard and Santana's eyes finally opened again, her hand quickly leaving her clit as if it might burn her fingers if they stayed there for just a second longer.

She was breathing hard, looking around in her room, entirely confused. She examined her own hand, saw the thick wetness on her finger, felt her clit throbbing, more than it ever had before. It scared the shit out of her.

That night she had tried to cool herself down with a shower, washing her face as if trying to eraze those thoughts out of her mind. She could not have these fantasies about her friend. She just couldn't. It just wasn't right.

She tried going on the way she did before, she continued seeing Puck, continued trying to masturbate until it became all too frustrating. She wanted nothing more than to be good at sex, wanted nothing more than to enjoy it, to feel grown up, to feel okay with herself. But soon she had to realize it wouldn't work out for her like that. That she couldn't fight the images that kept creeping back into her mind. That nothing was turning her on more than the thought of kissing Brittany's well-formed breasts, hearing her moan her name.

Women could have fantasies, right? Maybe she just needed to learn how to control them. Maybe she was simply stuck in that phase where she'd have to find out what turned her on, what to focus on during sex. It was okay, it didn't mean she was gay. She wasn't gay.

And many girls did it with other girls, right? Just for fun. Girls were close. Friends could be really close. Best friends trusted each other, were always there for each other, usually knew each other for many years. Of course imagining to be intimate with someone you cared for was less scary than making all of these new experiences with men you barely knew.

Then, that one night when Brittany was lying next to her, wearing her short pajamas, her eyes fixed on the television, Santana caught herself staring at the exposed skin of her friend's thigh as her leg was snaking around her blanket. She felt herself lick her lips, not able to stop her mind from going to these inappropriate places.

How would Brittany react if she kissed her? She knew the blonde wasn't stupid, but she also knew she could probably make her believe that it was okay for friends to do this. That it didn't mean anything. They weren't gonna hurt anyone. It would stay their little secret. She just wanted to try it. Needed to know if it made a difference, needed to know if she was going insane.

The blonde smiled when Santana leaned in closer and positioned a small kiss on her cheek. She giggled when a second kiss followed. And a third. And a fourth.

"What are you doing, San?" she asked her as the Latina softly let her lips brush against the blonde's, but she didn't seem uncomfortable or shocked, just curious.

"Puck's visiting his grandparents this weekend..." Santana murmured, kissing her lips once more. "I just need some physical contact... I read it's good for your metabolism to... you know... kiss and stuff... once you start having regular sex..."

"Oh..." Brittany answered, obviously processing the other girl's words. "Okay..." She shrugged and kissed Santana back for the first time.

Somehow Santana felt bad for taking advantage of her friend like that, for lying to her face, for needing to find out why her feelings and her body were tricking her, but she wasn't doing anything bad, was she? They were just kissing. Experimenting. It was okay.

"Relax..." she told Brittany and the blonde let out a soft little moan as Santana's lips traveled to her neck, slowly licking the salty skin there.

"Hm... that feels nice..."

"Don't talk, okay?" Santana interrupted her, though it didn't make her feel any better. Why did she tell her to shut up? She had wanted Puck to be quiet so she could focus more on her own body, but why Brittany? Already now, after the short time they had been kissing, Santana felt the warm and fuzzy tickle in her belly, felt her skin turn hotter, felt her face turn red, felt her pulse raise. Why was she telling her to shut up?

She figured she simply couldn't deal with it, couldn't hear her voice, the constant reminder that something so wrong suddenly felt so right. It was just a one time thing. Just a test.

Before she knew it she was on top of the blonde, her kisses growing more passionate. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, her hands were shaking.

She was kissing Brittany like she had never kissed anyone else before, her tongue having a mind of its own, needing to taste Brittany's lips, needing to feel her.

"Wow, you're a good kisser..." Brittany panted and Santana looked into her eyes shortly, feeling terrified.

"Brit, please..."

"Oh yes, okay, sorry..."

Closing her eyes again, Santana buried her face in the blonde's neck. She smelled amazing. Fresh. Fruity. Female.

Without even noticing it herself, Santana soon started rubbing herself against the blonde's leg, as if driven by some supernatural force. It must have been pure instinct, it just came over her.

"Take that off..." she ordered, tugging at the hem of Brittany's shirt. "Please..." she added in an almost shy whisper.

The blonde was trying to search Santana's eyes but the Latina refused to look at her, kept her gaze strictly at the wall next to her. Still, Brittany removed her pajama top, wearing nothing underneath.

Santana had to catch her breath at the sight of the blonde's breasts, her pink nipples,their perfect size. Why was the need so strong to kiss them, lick them, suck on them? She had stared at Puck's naked chest countless times. Yes, he was attractive, well-trained, not too hairy or anything... but this? This was fucking perfection. Beautiful. Simply beautiful.

The inner conflict was almost unbearable. Santana was close to breaking it all off, close to handing Brittany her shirt, close to telling her to get dressed again, to telling her it wasn't the same and she wasn't into it... but she couldn't. She was sure the blonde must be able to hear her heartbeat as she felt it hammering so loud in her throat. She wasn't gay. She was not.

Santana's hands found Brittany's breasts, instinctively started to massage them. The blonde whimpered underneath her. She looked so peaceful, so content. She needed to look away. What was she doing?

She could feel the wetness between her own thighs, felt lightheaded, the need to be close suddenly so fucking strong.

"You mind if I...?" she asked, her hands at the hem of Brittany's pants.

The blonde shook her head vehemently, desire mirroring in her eyes. She shouldn't look. Just look away.

Santana quickly stripped the thin pants down her friend's legs, immediately reaching out to remove her panties as well. She needed to do it quickly before she'd make herself stop. She was this close to making herself stop but she couldn't. Why did she need it so badly? Why did it feel so different?

Her mouth hung slightly open when she stared at the part between her friend's legs. It was wrong to desire it so much, wasn't it? To want to touch it?

She still couldn't look at her face, it was already confusing enough as it was.

Santana moved a little closer, slowly this time, her finger carefully touching her friend's sex. She felt Brittany's body stiffen, could sense how she resisted the urge to talk, could see – from the corner of her eye – how the blonde was biting her lower lip, pressing her eyes shut, her cheast heaving.

Touching Brittany was sensational. She was so warm. So wet. She could smell her, the smell of her arousal seemed to surround her, it was blurring her senses. It felt so soft, so fucking soft underneath her fingertip.

Santana started stroking Brittany's clit, pressing her eyes shut at the sound of the soft "oh, San..." escaping her friend's lips.

'Please stop saying my name' she thought, 'please stop doing that to me', but she kept quiet this time.

Her eyes were fixed on the image in front of her, her own finger sliding along another woman's most intimate places, it turned her on so much. Too much. She knew right then that nothing was wrong with her body. It _did _react, it _did _function. But why with her? Why?

She moved closer to her friend, started kissing her belly button as she slowly pushed one finger inside of her. Somehow she knew she didn't hurt her, it moved inside so easily, without any effort. There was no way it could feel nearly as uncomfortable as the times she herself had been fingered, no way.

"Is this okay?" she heard herself ask, needing the conformation that she was right. That she wasn't alone with this. That the feeling was mutual.

"Yes... please go on" Brittany whispered and it was all that Santana needed to hear.

She let her forehead rest against Brittany's belly and closed her eyes once more as she added a second finger, enjoying the feeling of being so close to her, her fingers surrounded by the girl's warm heat. Why did it feel so right? It shouldn't. It fucking shouldn't.

Santana's thumb found the blonde's clit as she pushed a little deeper into her and it was as if she could feel her friend's pleasure in her own body. There were so many thoughts in her head, so many things she felt she needed to speak out loud, but she made herself shut up. She was simply caught up in the moment. She was just living a fantasy. No need to become all mushy and emotional.

"Kiss me..." she heard Brittany say and she wanted to say no. Wanted to shake her head. Wanted to ignore her words. She really did.

Still she found herself move upwards, pressing ler lips against the blonde's, breathing hard against her mouth.

She almost bit Brittany's lip when she suddenly felt her friend's fingers move against her clit - it caught her by surprise. Santana knew Brittany must be able to feel her arousal and it embarrassed her. How could she possibly be so wet, so turned on by this? A fantasy. Just a fantasy. From now on everything would change. Maybe it was just a weird knot that needed to be loosened, maybe it would allow her to enjoy sex from now on.

"Fuck..." Santana moaned as Brittany started stroking her more firmly. She didn't want to press herself against the blonde's fingers as much as she did. She didn't want to seem so needy and desperate. But who was she kidding? She was desperate. She did need her to touch her. Right there.

Suddenly a finger was inside of her. Or maybe two? She couldn't even say it because it didn't hurt, it felt fucking good. It felt like more.

It was hard to focus on her own movements, hard to focus on finding the right rhythm. This was no perfect love scene, this wasn't the movies where both people knew exactly what they were doing, but Santana was past the point of caring. She didn't care if it might look unexperienced how she was suddenly fucking her friend's hand, all she knew was that it made her feel full and complete.

Her mouth started kissing every body part she could reach, Brittany's mouth, Brittany's neck, Brittany's chest, her nipples.

She didn't have to focus on finally getting her release, she suddenly found herself focusing on dragging it out longer. She felt this warm feeling grow so fucking intense, felt her muscles clench around her friend's fingers, fels as if her body was somehow leaving the mattress - but damn, she didn't want it to be over. It would be the one and only time they'd be doing this, it couldn't be over, not yet, please no.

"I'm gonna come..." Brittany told her and Santana looked at her face again for the first time since they had started, saw her glowing eyes, her flushed cheeks, this vulnerable expression in her eyes. She didn't want to look away anymore. She wanted to burn that image into her memories, wanted to make sure she'd remember it the next time someone else was touching her, wanted to save this moment for eternity.

Before she even had the time to wonder if she was doing it right, if she was finally making her friend come, she suddenly felt something like a huge shockwave run through her body. It made her shiver, made her moan, made her scream some incoherent phrases that she couldn't hold back.

She wasn't able to move anymore, her body was on fire. Her hands were shaking so hard she had trouble keeping her balance above Brittany, felt her body turn weak and sink on top of the other girl's sweaty form.

Santana was still panting, her heart still pounding hard. She felt tears in her eyes that she couldn't explain and that she certainly wouldn't let anyone see. She kept her face buried in the pillow next to Brittany's head, swallowing hard.

Why? Please, for the love of god, why?

It hadn't been a perfect performance, it had probably looked completely unexperienced, but it felt so good.

Santana suddenly felt small, relieved to be embraced by her friend who was softly stroking her back. She wondered if Brittany had come, too but she didn't dare asking. She knew this would all be over in a few minutes. She knew she would never have the courage to talk about what had happened. She knew she would return to Puck the next day when he was back from his trip. She knew she would try to cling on that one particular image of Brittany underneath her, looking at her with so much desire in her eyes, but she also knew it wouldn't help. It wouldn't make anything better. It would probably make it worse.

"I'm not gay" she then said. "I'm not."

Her words hung heavily in the air of the silent room. A desperate statement. A lie.

Santana was glad that Brittany chose not to answer.


End file.
